Blind Spot Peripheral Vision Novels & Stories

I once believed meeting Charles was the final ray of comfort in my life. A sightless man and a terminally ill woman, leaning on each other to find warmth in the dark. I gave up chemotherapy, pushing through cancer pain to work, all just to leave behind every cent I had for my "blind" boyfriend and our unborn baby. I even signed an organ donor form, hoping that after my death, my eyes could finally bring him light. That belief shattered when I saw a photo in the hospital director's office. There he was, surfing under the bright sun. His eyes shone, with an arm wrapped around an heiress dripping in multi-million-dollar jewels. It turns out our whole love story was nothing more than a rich

" That's because the blood has clotted one of the veins bringing blood to your eyes. As a consequence,there is a lack of blood which carries ox. gen to your eyes hence the split blindness episodes." The doctor replied. " How much time do I have Left?" Kiel asked the question he has been dreading a lot. Some conditions could be dealt with medically but without asking ,he knew his case was hopeless . Nothing could be done and death was inevitable. " Three months before your brain becomes unresponsive,one month before you lose your sight completely." The doctor honestly replied. He knew that bluntness to their patience could cause unimaginable consequences but the man before him was holding on

Or at least threaten to. I quickly turned on the heated seats and watched in shock and a little bit of awe as Ang moved the mirrors and her seat so that she was closer to the pedals and maybe just because God wanted to punish me and make me feel like a judgmental jackass - she pulled out a pair of black-rimmed glasses and gave me a shy look. "I um, have night blindness a bit but these help, I only use them when I drive, I think it's more of a security thing since my vision is normally perfect."

My vision blurs right before another zing of pain goes through me. I scream and black out.

Her fury was sharp and cold; his anger, loud and clumsy. And yet, in her arms, I was safe. She would brush my hair at night and whisper stories of the stars, even though I couldn’t see them. She called me her falcon, said my blindness was a gift. “You see deeper than most, Seraphina. You see with your soul.” I didn’t believe her. Not until she died. The official story was an electrical fire in the west wing. But I remember the smoke. The screaming. The way she’d shouted my name.

He regretted it the moment those words left his lips. Tears built in Bonnie's eyes. "I'm sor-" "Lorenzo! Come quick, the news." Grace hurriedly said as she dragged Lorenzo to the living room. "21 year old Bonnie Evans went missing Thursday July 13th after being last seen at The Velvet Room, a nightclub in California. Evans was seen with her best friend Becca Jones and is the last person she spoke to before she supposedly went missing. Evans is also described to be blind. She was diagnosed with Retinitis Pigmentosa when she was only 14, an eye disease in which the back wall of the eye is damaged. Police investigators only found her cellphone and her guide dog in an alley of Mellway Street. Ev

She doubted a zombie would be able to locate her there, even an advanced zombie. One of the things about zombies that stayed with them, no matter how much of their thinking and motor skills returned was the fact that they had poor night vision, depth perception, and were color blind. Those factors went in her favor since the opening to the root cellar was beneath a very realistic looking shrub that was attached to the trap door. Its coloring varied from those it was amongst only by the slightest degree and, unless you ran your hand over it, you’d never guess it wasn’t real. Combine that to the fact that it was nighttime, and she felt safe in her selection of hiding places.

Anthony's POV The equipment room was narrow and smelled like rubber and cold metal. Vera let the door close behind them. She stood with her arms at her sides and waited. Anthony leaned against the storage shelf behind him. He looked at the floor for a moment. Then he looked at her. "I have a degenerative eye condition," he said. "Keratoconus. It affects the shape of the cornea. On good days my vision is near normal. On bad days the left eye is significantly impaired and my depth perception drops."

I whisper, forcing my eyes open wider. The trees blur again. The light shifts. Dark spots flicker at the edges of my vision, small at first, then spreading slightly. I inhale.

The edges of my vision blurred, and dizziness swirled in my head like a storm. I closed my eyes, trying to steady myself, but it was too late. The world around me spun, the sounds of the room dimming into an incoherent blur. A strange pressure built behind my eyes, and suddenly—without warning—I was flooded with a vision. It wasn’t my own, and yet it felt as real as the ground beneath me.